


Do The Right Thing

by WDHawthorne



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M, episode-related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-04
Updated: 2003-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-01 05:26:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/352466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WDHawthorne/pseuds/WDHawthorne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I couldn't let it go until January. I couldn't bear the idea of Clark leaving Lex in Belle Reve for that long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do The Right Thing

## Do The Right Thing

by WD Hawthorne

[]()

* * *

Jonathan held the screen door open for Clark as they entered the kitchen together. The cows had been milked, the stalls mucked, and fresh feed was set out for all the livestock. It was time to go back to the house for breakfast. 

"Mmmm. Something sure smells good," Jonathan sniffed avidly at the flavorful aroma that assailed them as they scraped their boots off on the welcome mat. 

Martha was pushing scrambled eggs around the frying pan as she kept an eye on the pancakes on the griddle. "Just thought you guys looked really hungry this morning, so I decided to make a nice big old-fashioned breakfast." 

Clark hung his jacket on the coat rack by the door and slipped off his dirty boots, leaving them on the mat. Then he silently made for the staircase. 

Jonathan exchanged a look with Martha. She was worried about Clark, and Jonathan was inclined to agree with her. That whole thing with Lex losing his grip on reality and Lana getting hurt had been a lot for the boy to bear this last week. Jonathan knew this big breakfast was Martha's attempt to cook her way into Clark's heart and try to cheer him up. He'd been so down the last few days, understandably in view of everything that had happened, but he hadn't been ready to talk it out with his parents the way he usually did, not yet anyway. He'd been quiet and sullen, and very aloof, and Jonathan and Martha were concerned about him. 

"Son, aren't you going to have breakfast with us?" he called after the tall form disappearing up the stairs. 

"Not hungry," came the monotoned answer just before the door closed to Clark's bedroom at the top of the steps. 

"Clark!" Jonathan poised himself at the bottom of the staircase, and called out loud enough to be sure he was heard through the closed door, ignoring Martha's eyebrow raised in warning. "Clark, your mother worked hard to make us a nice breakfast-" 

"I said I'm not hungry!" came the voice from inside the bedroom, in a tone flecked with just enough teenaged insolence to raise Jonathan's hackles. 

"Clark. I don't want to ask you again..." Jonathan warned, trying hard to maintain an appropriate degree of fatherly tolerance. "Now I want you to show some respect for all the work your mother went through to make this for us. Come down here and let's have a nice family breakfast." 

A huge, put-upon sigh sounded from inside their son's room, followed by a distinct whine. "But Dad, it's _Saturday_. I just want to go back to bed for a while." 

Before Jonathan could open his mouth to raise the level of confrontation, Martha laid a calming hand on his forearm and called out "Then why don't you just come down and sit with us while we eat, Sweetheart? Then you can go back to bed and sleep as long as you like. We haven't hardly had a chance to talk with you in days." 

There was silence for a few moments, and just about the time that Jonathan feared Clark was simply going to ignore his mother, the door opened and their son stepped out, clunking loudly down the steps in a manner that was a studied mixture of indifference and belligerence. He pulled his chair out from the table and sat down heavily. 

Jonathan was about to scold the boy for such childish pouting when Martha caught his eye and he refrained. Instead, he picked up the platter of pancakes and set it on the table as she poured the coffee. 

As Martha and Jonathan took their seats at the table on either side of Clark, Martha began talking about how the weather stripping on the kitchen window was coming apart and would have to be replaced before winter. 

Jonathan took up her lead, instinctively understanding her wish to create an atmosphere of comfortable normality for their son, and hoping that talking about routine matters might help accomplish that. He talked to her about how Tillie the cow's hoof problems seemed to be getting better, and how much Jake the bull was eating lately, and how a couple posts on the back fence were starting to lean a bit. 

Clark merely sat back in his chair with his hands in his lap and stared at the center of the table. The small talk between Jonathan and Martha grew increasingly strained in view of Clark's continued glum mood. 

Finally, Martha had to acknowledge her reticent son. "Clark, Honey, you should eat _something_...," she started, her hand poised to offer whatever platter of food that Clark might deign to choose. 

A few seconds ticked off the clock in the other room before Clark glanced at his mother and sighed heavily. "I'm sorry Mom. I'm just not hungry." 

"Please, Clark," she pleaded gently. "You haven't eaten hardly anything in the last few days." 

Clark shrugged, his attention once again fixed on some indiscriminate spot in the middle of the table. "Can I just have some cereal?" 

"Sure, Sweetheart. Anything you want. Just so you eat." Martha got up and brought him the big cereal bowl he usually preferred, and Jonathan fetched a box of cereal from the cupboard. 

They were encouraged to see him pour himself some cereal and milk, and tried to return to small talk, in hopes that a little food in his stomach might help his mood, and maybe he might eventually open up to them. 

A few minutes later, after some strained conversation about the weather, groceries, and the new fast food restaurant in town, Jonathan and Martha fell silent. Clark had leaned forward over his cereal bowl, but was just pushing his spoon around in it, his gaze intent on the little eddies of milk and cereal his spoon created. Jonathan didn't think that Clark had taken even one single bite yet. 

Martha realized it too. She exchanged a helpless look with Jonathan as their forced conversation gave way to a continued helpless silence. Jonathan saw that Martha just planned to wait Clark out. Jonathan knew that if he said anything to Clark before he was ready to talk, that he'd probably just retreat to his room again, and that wouldn't be helping matters any. 

Clark's head bent closely over his cereal bowl, and he finally raised a spoonful towards his mouth, but the spoon merely hovered in mid-air for a moment, and then fell back to his bowl with a splash. Clark's face reddened and his mouth contorted in a trembling grimace as Jonathan and Martha watched in horror while their son began to sob over his cereal bowl. 

Jonathan knew it would be Martha's first instinct to jump up and pull Clark into the warm comfort of a mother's embrace, but she bit her lip and held back, the same as Jonathan did. They both knew that Clark wasn't ten years old any more, and along with the growing complexity of Clark's troubles, he also deserved the adult opportunity to maintain whatever dignity he could in a situation like this. 

But affording him his dignity didn't mean that they couldn't touch him at all. Jonathan and Martha each reached a hand to Clark's nearest shoulder and while Jonathan warmly squeezed the shoulder under his hand, Martha petted Clark's other shoulder maternally. 

"Oh, Clark...," she crooned, her son's pain reflected plainly in her voice. "Talk to us, Sweetheart, please..." 

It took a few moments for Clark to pull himself together enough to even speak. He finally scrubbed the backs of his hands over his eyes and took a deep breath. 

"I think I made a bad mistake," he answered in a small, quaking voice, and then once more his control broke and he sobbed, pressing his forehead into heels of his hands. 

Jonathan thought he understood what his son was trying to say. Clark had made some crucial errors in judgment this past week that had had some pretty serious consequences-he'd kept Lex hidden in their barn, then he'd defied his parents in a futile attempt to help Lex prove his cockamamie story, and then he'd left little tiny Lana alone with an unbalanced Lex, while hiding him away once again. The news that Lana had nearly died had really shaken Clark, and his guilt now was probably overwhelming him, plus the fact that Lana was blaming Clark for the incident too. And in the end, it had all been for naught, because even Clark had finally been forced to recognize that Lex was disturbed enough to warrant commitment to Belle Reve Sanitarium. It wasn't surprising that Clark would be overwhelmed by everything that had happened. Still, it had been the Luthor family madness, in one way or the other, that had caused all the problems, not Clark. Once again, Clark's friendship with Lex Luthor had brought nothing but trouble. 

He rubbed Clark's shoulder and sighed. "Clark, you can't blame yourself for what happened." 

"Your father's right, Sweetheart," Martha added, reaching up to smooth her son's hair. "There's no way you could have predicted that Lana would be hurt in a freak accident like that. It's not your fault, and it's not Lex's fault that the horse--" 

"NO!" Clark shouted, pushing away both his parents' reassuring touches. "No!" He took a breath and rubbed his forehead, still staring down at his cereal bowl. He exhaled shakily, visibly attempting to calm himself. "This isn't about Lana. I mean, I'm sorry she got hurt, and I'm sorry she doesn't want to be around me anymore... But... But she's going to recover. Eventually. It's just that I don't know if..." 

Clark said more at the end of that last sentence, but his voice grew so choked that neither Jonathan nor Martha could make it out. Jonathan felt a knot in his stomach tighten, hating the pain in his son's voice. 

"Clark, Sweetheart..." Martha started, but couldn't say more, her own voice trembling. It was clear her heart was breaking to see Clark like this. 

Jonathan reached to grasp his son's forearm, and prodded gently, "Clark. What is it?" 

Several deep, gasping breaths were all Clark could muster for a long minute, and then he roughly ran his napkin over his face and cleared his throat. "You always taught me to do the right thing." 

"That's right, Son," Jonathan agreed, and followed the thought through gently while lightly rubbing his thumb over Clark's wrist. "So I'm guessing that maybe you think that you didn't do the right thing at some point, or you wouldn't be sitting here dripping tears into your corn flakes..." 

This at least got a glance out of Clark, who raised his eyes to Jonathan and nodded ruefully before he was forced to bite his lip to keep it from trembling. Jonathan slid his hand down Clark's arm to grasp his son's fingers tightly in his own. 

"It's all right, Son. Just tell us what it is, maybe there's something we can do to help." 

"He was so _scared_!" Clark whispered miserably. "He ...He came to me for help, he trusted me to help him...and I just...I just _abandoned_ him!" 

Jonathan's eyes met his wife's watery gaze as they finally understood. This was about Lex, not Lana. And this would be something that couldn't be fixed as easily as a teenaged love disappointment. But as sad as the idea was of that bright young man being mentally and emotionally unbalanced, it wasn't Clark's fault, and there was no way his parents were going to allow him to feel guilt over Lex having to be committed. 

"Sweetheart, I know it hurts to think of Lex in a sanitarium," Martha tried consoling as she got up and wrapped an arm around Clark's broad shoulders. "We know he's your friend, and you care about him. But friendship can't cure him--he needs the professional help they can give him. He's sick-emotionally. He was so out of control..." 

"You don't understand," Clark croaked as he scrubbed at his eyes with his free hand. "I think I really failed him when he needed me most. I wanted to do the right thing for him... But I didn't. ." 

"Why not, Son?" Jonathan squeezed Clark's fingers again. "Surely you can see that Lex had become dangerous, not only to the people around him, but to himself too..." 

Clark dragged a sleeve across his eyes and took a steadying breath. He glanced at Jonathan darkly. "I didn't tell you exactly everything that happened that day, Dad. I sort of left some stuff out." 

Jonathan drew a deep breath and caged his temper. _Now what_? he thought dismally. What _more_ could Clark have hidden from them? Yet it was clear that Clark was currently suffering enough punishment as it was for his mistakes, so Jonathan just nodded his head, ignored the acid that suddenly churned in his gut, and offered, "It's all right, Son. Just tell us now." 

Clark then told a faltering story about how he'd found that Lex really had been drugged, about a confused, terrified and tearful Lex, about snipers, bullets and Kryptonite beads, about Sancho Panza, and about Morgan Edge and a speeding car... 

"And then they were coming for him up the drive, and I had to decide quick what to do...And I just _abandoned_ him, Dad. He was babbling about how I'd stopped the car from hitting him, and I got scared, and just took off. And then I heard him call for me before they took him away." He choked back a sob again and glanced from Jonathan to Martha. "He _screamed_ for me, Mom. He was so _scared_ , so afraid that they'd kill him or lock him up for the rest of his life...and I just _let_ them _take_ him! One minute I was vowing to him that I'd never do anything to hurt him, and the next minute I'm deserting him when he needs my help the most! I let him down just to protect myself, my secret. I betrayed him the same way everyone else always has." 

Jonathan sighed, troubled. If this was all true, it was a lot to take in, and he certainly understood the weight that Clark had been carrying around the last few days. No wonder he had been reticent about telling them the full story. Jonathan didn't know what to say. He glanced at Martha, and tried to put together a few initial thoughts that might be of some comfort. 

"Clark, try not to be so hard on yourself. You did the best you could. It was really a no-win situation. We understand what you did, and why. The more people who know your secret, the more dangerous it is not only for you, but also for the people you care about. We understand you wanted to protect your family and friends from people like Lionel Luthor and this Morgan Edge character..." 

"But... Lex isn't really crazy," Clark sniffed, "it's just the drugs they're giving him..." 

"Oh, Clark, I know you want Lex to be just like before," Martha hugged Clark and dabbed at his tears with a Kleenex from her pocket, the same way she used to do when he was six years old. "But the drugs may not be the entire problem. They may have just exacerbated issues he already had buried below the surface. You know he's had troubles before. The drugs may have brought him up to the edge of the cliff, but once he's gone over, simply taking the drugs away may not save him from the fall. Do you understand what I'm trying to say? He needs to get help, Sweetheart." 

He leaned his head against his mother's shoulder, and closed his eyes against the tears that filled them again. His lips still trembled. "But he's so afraid of that place. I just can't _stand_ to think of him in there all alone and frightened. And even if he does need help, he's not going to get any better there, not while his father is overseeing his treatment." 

Clark had a point, Jonathan had to admit. Even if there was no longer any physical evidence of the plot that had brought Lex to this point, he believed his son's story that the plot did indeed exist, regardless of whether it was Morgan Edge or Lionel Luthor behind it. And if Lex being in Belle Reve was part of that plot, then no good could ever come of that. Lex would never get better while there, not until Lionel Luthor or Morgan Edge deigned to permit it. 

Clearing his throat, Clark sat up straight again, took a breath and spread his hands flat on the table, deep in thought. Jonathan and Martha waited quietly, knowing they had to let Clark work through his demons for himself. 

After a couple minutes of intense thought, he seemed to come to a conclusion. He blinked and looked to his parents. "Mom? Dad?" he started in a much steadier voice. "I'm going to get Lex out of there." 

Jonathan looked at the determination in his son's eyes, noting the strength of Clark's resolve, feeling the acid in his stomach start to burn again. The only way Clark might be able to convince the right people that Lex wasn't crazy would be to admit that Lex had been telling the truth about what he'd seen Clark do. It was the only real proof that Clark could offer. The only alternative might be to break Lex out of there by the force of his alien powers, which wasn't a very acceptable option either. 

He picked up his coffee cup and gazed into the cooling liquid as he slowly swirled it around. "Do you understand that in order to get Lex out, you may have to reveal--" 

"Yes," Clark answered without hesitation, then added, "Do you understand that if I do that, it may put you and Mom in danger?" 

"So what else is new?" Martha chuckled gamely. Jonathan could only stare at her, slack-jawed. How could she take that so lightly? How many times had she been put in danger the last few years because of some trouble that her son had gotten mixed up in? How could she take her own safety so lightly? 

Clark cracked a grateful grin at his mother, kissed her cheek, and then turned expectant eyes toward Jonathan. 

Jonathan thought for a moment. Clark apparently was willing to risk danger to his family and friends in order to rescue Lex. But was Clark ready to take on all that? Was he ready to carry the responsibility for the safety of everyone he cared about? What if something happened? Or what if he was unsuccessful in rescuing Lex? What if, after revealing his truths and all was said and done, Lex really _was_ crazy and had to remain institutionalized? Could Clark handle those consequences? 

"Son, are you _sure_?" 

Clark swallowed dryly and nodded his head with conviction. "I love him, Dad. I have to do this. Whether you're with me on this or not, I have to go back and do the right thing." 

Inwardly, Jonathan cringed. It was not a surprise to him that Clark loved Lex, especially not since he had defied his parents and walked away shoulder-to-shoulder with the boy a few days ago...but his voice made it sound so definite, so significant, as if it were something more than the love of a friend. Jonathan looked into his son's eyes, trying to discern his meaning without having to ask the question, but all he could see was the courage of Clark's determination. 

Jonathan picked up his coffee cup and thoughtfully slurped down the last few gulps, weighing the facts before making a decision. Clark seemed willing to risk everything to do the right thing by Lex, regardless of what his parents said, but he evidently was still asking for his parents' blessing. Could Jonathan agree to this in good conscience? Clark was still just a kid, and if he now revealed to the world what he could do, it would forever change whatever dreams he had of ever living a halfway normal life. Clark seemed bent on carrying out this noble mission, but did he fully realize what the consequences might be? Hadn't Clark made enough mistakes in the last week, and wasn't it up to his parents to help prevent him from making any more? 

Yet, now that he knew what had really happened, Jonathan had to admit it would be wrong to do nothing. Whether Lex actually needed psychiatric help in the end was beside the point-he'd been committed to that place under false pretenses, pushed to the breaking point by the influence of drugs and some reprehensible manipulations, and didn't _somebody_ owe that poor boy a fighting chance? As much as Jonathan had always been biased against Lex, and as much as Lex had proven Jonathan's biases _right_ in the past, he'd also proven those same biases wrong just as many times. How many kindnesses had Lex offered the Kents over the last few years, and how many more had Jonathan turned down? Not all that long ago, Jonathan had been ready to put the past behind them and accept Lex for the friend Clark had always claimed he could be, and he'd even been willing to accept Lex into the family. It was only Jonathan's mistrust of Lionel Luthor and his imposition of that mistrust onto Luthor's son that kept coming between them; but while Jonathan knew his wariness of Lionel was ever justified, he could no more hold Lex responsible for Lionel's sins than he could blame Clark for those of his biological father. 

And, not for the first time, the thought occurred to Jonathan that, as rich and famous as Lex was as the heir to the Luthor fortune, and even as a young tycoon in his own right, Lex really had no one else to turn to. No other family, no other friends. When Lex was in trouble, whose door did he knock on and beg for a place to stay? Whose barn did he seek shelter in? Who did Lex turn to for solace? 

As sad as that was for Lex, Jonathan couldn't help but feel a little proud that Clark had earned Lex's trust and friendship. It obviously wasn't easily won. And if Clark's actions a few days ago had endangered that, it seemed like making amends now by freeing Lex from the control of the drugs and from his father's manipulations was the right thing to do. 

And now that Clark had told them that Lex knew of Clark's abilities, it was more important than ever to get the young man out of there, away from Lionel's influence. It was bad enough that Morgan Edge had found out, Jonathan didn't even want to think about what might happen if Lionel discovered the truth. 

Making the only decision he really could make, Jonathan set the cup back down, and nodded toward Clark. "All right then. I guess we'll just have to see what we can do to get Lex out of that place." 

A relieved smile spread fleetingly across Clark's face, as if he were afraid to believe what Jonathan had just agreed to. "Even if it means I have to reveal who I am?" 

Jonathan shrugged. He didn't like it one damn bit, but then again, there wasn't anything he did like about this whole situation. And, in the end, it was Clark's decision to make. The best Jonathan could hope for was that he not make the decision too hastily. He arched an eyebrow at Clark. "It may not have to come to that. Try to keep that option as a last resort, Son. Let's first try to see if there's some other way we can dig up some evidence or a witness who will corroborate the story." 

Nodding earnestly, Clark agreed. "Right. Okay." 

"And I want you to remember that we might find, once we get Lex out from under the influence of those drugs, that he still might need more help than we can give him by ourselves." 

Clark's eager face clouded. Jonathan knew Clark hoped that a little rest, home-cooking, comfort from a family who cared about him, and from a friend who loved him, would be all Lex would need. Clark nodded gravely. "I understand." 

Jonathan stood up from the table and moved to the doorway, slipping his work boots back on. "Get your shoes on, Clark. Martha, get me the emergency cash from the tin in the bedroom. We may have to grease a palm or two." 

Moving to fetch his shoes from the doormat, Clark gazed up at his father in surprise. "Dad? You're going to use the emergency money to pay people off?" 

"If Lionel can get away with it, so can I," Jonathan retorted as he grabbed his jacket from the hook. 

"But-the _emergency_ money, Dad?" 

Jonathan pretended to concentrate on zipping his jacket. "Look, Son... Lex has done some good things for this family that I haven't always given him enough credit for. But the truth is, at the very least, he saved the farm, and he saved my life, and I think a little emergency money isn't asking too much if we can help him out. Besides," Jonathan looked up to meet Clark's wide, red-rimmed eyes, "my son loves him. That's got to count for something." 

Blinking rapidly, Clark made a choked noise, and looked away self-consciously. It was when Clark suddenly turned back to him and hugged him especially tight that Jonathan then somehow knew that the love Clark felt for Lex Luthor was indeed very, very deep. 

He embraced his son in return. It would be okay. He'd made a lot of parenting mistakes over the years with his son, but he was not going to make another one now. If he had to accept that kind of a relationship between his son and Lex Luthor, somehow, someday, he would find a way. 

Martha came back from the bedroom, and with a maternal smile, handed Jonathan a thick wad of twenties, which he stuffed into his wallet. It wasn't Luthor kind of wealth, but there was a small chance it might get them somewhere. 

"Come on, Martha, get your coat on. We're going to go bring Lex home." 

So the three Kents loaded themselves into the red Dodge pickup and drove off toward Belle Reve Sanitarium, leaving an old-fashioned breakfast behind on the kitchen table, barely touched, on their way to do the right thing. 

< _the end_ >


End file.
